


Collection of Poems by Yours Truly

by growup_thatbeautiful



Category: Original Work
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bad Poetry, Breakups, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Love Poems, Minor Character Death, Multi, No Plot/Plotless, Poetry, Sad Poetry, Some angst, new poets society - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 09:01:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 3,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29365905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/growup_thatbeautiful/pseuds/growup_thatbeautiful
Summary: just some poems!! enjoy!!! let me know you favorite lines!!!
Comments: 4
Kudos: 3





	1. the girl

**Author's Note:**

> let’s get this started :)))

There was a girl,  
Who loved the world too quickly.  
She never knew when  
The love she had,  
Would end up hurting her.

Everyone told this girl,  
To stop loving,  
Because it was making her sad.  
But she knew that she couldn’t,  
Because there were things,  
That if she didn’t love them,  
No one would.

So she kept loving.  
She loved  
That one scratchy blanket,  
The ugly teddy bear,  
The old man who wasn’t nice to anyone,  
And she loved the world.

One day,  
When she was talking to someone,  
She stopped in the middle of a sentence,  
And looked up into the sky.  
She saw the stars,  
And their distant beauty,  
And she knew,  
That when she stopped loving,  
The world wouldn’t have as much love.

So she tried to love everything,  
As much as she could  
In order to make up for the love lost,  
When she would be gone.

Years passed in the girl's life.  
She loved everything she could.  
And she cherished the world.  
But like all things,  
Her life had to end.

On the night when she died,  
There were no stars in the sky  
Because the world was mourning,  
For the only person that loved it fully,  
Was dead.

But life went on.  
And the stars shone the next night,  
And the night after that.  
And there were people,  
Who studied the life of the girl,  
And they decided to try to love  
As deeply as she did.

And the world learned to love them,  
Because that’s what it has to do.  
It has to move on.  
It can stop and mourn,  
But at the end of the day,  
The stars will come out.  
And they will rejoice,  
Because they have people,  
That love them,  
As much as the girl that loved did.

So,  
Don’t be afraid,  
To love too deeply,  
And please,  
Listen to the girl,  
And love the things no one loves.


	2. it’s the end of the world (i called it)

I knew the world was going to end before it did.  
When there’s no consensus of truth, how can there be unity?  
Before the riots, people still died.  
Before the wars, politicians still lied.  
Look out for number one, who gives a shot about anyone else.  
It doesn’t make a difference in the end.  
It’s a fucked up world.  
Tune in any hour for the shitstorm,  
Watch as we cleanse the world by destroying each beautiful chapter of our lives,  
A surprisingly cathartic experience if you don’t think too much.


	3. the start of ruin, the start of joy

looking back and starting at the end.  
the golden leaves at our feet, the sun piercing through the branches.  
Emelia looked like an angel, her feet dragging light on the floor,  
the God above calling her to ascend.  
her ivory cable knit sweater accented with a rose pendant.  
the park bustling around as I dreamed and you swore.  
the only thing we agreed on was loving each other.

go back further and see us at the dog pound,  
picking out a german shepherd with a torn ear and a cloudy eye.  
we took him home, and he slept on the couch, the blankets askew.  
we were laying out on the bed, and for now Emelia stayed around.  
our dog was named Captain, but she called him Cap.  
we fought again that night, but we figured it out, like we used to.  
one of the things we agreed on was loving each other.

the beginning of us in a cafe by Sunflower road.  
I was entrapped by Emelia’s bronze ring-pierced lip and her worn leather boots,  
she walked towards me, I pretended not to notice, a used copy of treasure island in my hand.  
she sat down next to me, pointing to the counter. and asking what I owed.  
I blushed, couldn’t help it, and she complimented my hair, it’s rose-colored tint.  
she seemed interested, and she cared above the right things, and I couldn’t understand.  
we agreed on everything, except loving each other.


	4. watch me walk away

i would fall   
a thousand times  
from the highest point of our love  
if i could make you come back.  
we listened to the same song,  
the same album,  
on repeat,  
branded into our souls,  
the tune that we fell in love to  
the tune that sang between us  
in all the fights.  
the pain of love  
always there.  
but we didn’t feel it anymore,  
because it had been so long.  
ink stained hearts,  
blood turning black,  
and pouring out,  
through the cracks of the dry love.  
we didn’t agree on what was important,  
i thought we should enjoy each other,  
and have a good time,  
dancing to the sound of laughter,  
the warm glow of the light inside buildings,  
away from the rain.  
you thought we should settle,  
buy a two story house,  
with square bushes,  
and white walls.  
you got mad,  
the tattoo on my skin red and sore,  
a blemish to you,  
art to me.  
you said i didn’t care,  
i said i cared too much.  
i left in the morning,  
a bag half-packed in my hands,  
the rest of my stuff mixed with yours.  
you didn’t stop me,  
and i knew that you wouldn’t,  
we were stubborn,  
and we refused to be the first to leave,  
so we stayed,  
until staying's worse than leaving,  
we were sick of each other.  
I never moved back in.  
my friends got my stuff for me.  
i got more tattoos,  
you got a two story house with someone else,  
and we met again,  
for the first time,  
at the coffee place down the street from our first apartment.  
i was behind the counter.  
making your drink just how i knew you like,  
because i never forgot.  
my hair was dyed pink,  
you’re was up in bun,  
i smiled at you,  
you didn’t smile back.  
but before you walked out the door you waved,  
and i watched you go,  
not stopping you,  
because you didn’t stop me.


	5. inked hearts

look at the ink covering my skin,  
proudly,  
memories of the life i lived with you,  
pictures of places we’ve been,   
words written over my heart,  
your handwriting,  
your favorite quote,  
sprawled on my skin,  
beware for i am fearless and therefore powerful.  
a reminder of the promises we made,  
to each other and ourselves,  
visible through the thin cotton of my white t-shirt.  
on my right forearm,  
the vision of a painted night sky,  
reflected in a glossy pool of water,  
an echo of the first time we fell in love,  
one of the many,  
under the scattered stars  
and darkened streets.  
on the back of my shoulder,  
two dainty butterflies,  
dancing in the wind,  
colors bleeding between the lines,  
rain bitten glory.  
on my right wrist,  
a daily reminder,  
be good,  
an inscription in block letter,  
a match to the graffiti you painted on the wall outside my brownstone,  
your hair loose beneath your black hood,  
a mischief smile and bitten lip,  
me inviting you inside for a coffee,  
and tripping over my words.  
a poppy and a marigold,  
crossed into an X,  
on my ankle,  
the flowers of the months we were born,  
stay golden written underneath,  
the first movie we watched together,  
The Outsiders.  
my favorite was Dally,  
for caring so little about everything  
except Johnny and the thrill of the catch.  
you liked Sodapop,  
for the reason that he cared about anything   
and kept his family together because they only had each other.  
the scar on my back,  
now colored in pink, blue, and yellow,  
the colors of my flag,  
an idea you came up with,  
when we were smoking on the staircase,  
your leather jacket cool from outside,  
my red blazer laying on my shoulders,  
a forgotten cup of tea on a chipped saucer,  
in between us.  
a herd of whales,  
on my hip bone,  
for no reason at all,  
other than i saw the design,  
and i liked it.  
i surprised you with it later that day,  
you came home from a hard day in the office,  
and it made you smile.  
a small orange koi fish on the base of my thumb,  
a form of art that i saw at the museum,  
the night we got engaged.  
all these things,  
that i wanted to be a part of me,  
forever,  
against all the warnings   
that they are permanent,  
even thought i knew that from the start,  
and it didn’t deter me,  
from making myself into art that i loved,  
so i could love myself as well.


	6. don’t leave me just yet

i spent all night   
praying   
for you  
under the covers  
the lights on   
silent sobs   
shaking the bed frame  
and hushed words escaping   
my clenched teeth  
your name   
and please  
and help  
a chant in my mind,  
over and over,  
until i fell asleep,  
only to dream about you.  
you living.  
you breathing.  
you laughing.  
everything that you could take from yourself,  
everything you could take from me.


	7. gone

the day you died i remember where i was sitting,  
on the blue couch,  
my knees pulled up to my chest.  
i had been watching The Avengers.   
i know what part we were on whenever we were called down.  
mom collapsed in the hallway when she got the call,  
dad running in to see her.  
i remember the drive there.  
we went through starbucks,  
and i didn’t ask for a drink.  
we stopped at mcdonald’s,  
i didn’t eat anything.  
it was dark when we arrived in Memphis.  
we could see the fireworks shooting off,  
a tribute to america.  
we told ourselves it was for you.  
we got to the house,  
and the second youngest came running up to me.  
i carried her while i dragged my suitcase into the living room.  
she told me that you were gone.  
i said “i know”  
“no,” she said, “he’s dead. he’s up in heaven and he isn’t coming back.”  
i said “i know.”  
the kids got to stay upstairs.  
playing mario kart and not talking about what happened.  
we brought food upstairs  
even though we weren’t supposed to,  
because no one paid attention to us.  
the oldests taking care of the youngers.  
i remember the day of the funeral.  
i woke up to House of The Rising Sun.  
i sat in the backseat of moms van.  
the kids got to go into to youth lounge before it started,  
so we didn’t have to talk to anyone.  
i didn’t want to talk to anyone.  
the funeral started.  
the family,  
(us)  
walked in,  
parade of mourners with red eyes and runny noses.  
i can tell you exactly when i started to cry.  
when Holy, Holy, Holy started to play.  
i sang anyway.  
one of the younger cousins started sobbing behind me,  
i didn’t look back,  
i just cried harder.  
a kid from each family spoke.  
the oldest went first,  
but she didn’t finish,  
she got a few words out,  
and started crying.  
i was up next,  
and i made it through while crying,  
my voice broke.  
i didn’t care.  
i paid attention to the people talking,  
and tried to be quiet.  
i didn’t want to hold dad's hand on the way out,  
but i did anyway.   
that was the first time i saw gramma cry.  
it broke me.  
it’s been a year  
and a couple days,  
i can remember your voice,  
singing edelweiss and calling me sweetie pie.  
i won’t forget.  
i won’t forget you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> grandpa 💕💕


	8. shitty writings from a shitty writer

maybe i’m just a shitty writer  
with to many dreams of things that won’t ever happen,  
and hopes of placed i won’t see,  
places i can’t see.  
but even if i am just a shitty writer,  
you still read my shit,  
and tell me that it’s good,  
and tell me to keep going,  
to write more.  
i keep the journal besides my bed,  
where i write ideas that i come up with,  
in the middle of the night,  
so i can write about them tomorrow.  
i don’t know what’s going to happen to me,  
i don’t know who i’ll   
(inevitably)  
fall in love with,  
if they’ll be nice to me,  
if there will be passion,  
if i’ll even like being around them,  
but i know i’ll write about it,  
and i’ll keep the words in my mind,  
waiting for a chance to show you.  
maybe i’ll end up famous,  
for the words i weave,  
and the thoughts i create,  
and maybe people will know my name,  
but whatever happens,  
i’ll still send you my shitty poems.  
just so i can hear you say you like it.


	9. hold her close

she’s overwhelmed,  
like she always is,  
anxiety taking her over easily.  
she cannot speak out,  
everytime she tries,  
it get the best of her,  
a gag of her mind,  
it’s voice,  
disguised as her conscience,  
tears that she tries holds back,  
hanging from her lashes.  
she doesn’t know what comes over her,  
and then it pulls her back,  
into the dark hole.  
she lays in her bed,  
thinking what it would be like  
if things were different,  
if she was different.  
it shows up again,  
and tells her that she’s not enough,  
that she will never be enough,  
and she sits in the corner,  
sobbing for hours,  
or days,  
or years,  
but no one would know,  
because she puts on fake smiles,  
and forces her laughter.  
they seem so real,  
all part of a perfected act,  
in the show of her life.  
it tears her apart,  
ripping at the seams from her heart,  
she doesn’t want to deal with it,  
the horrible voice in her head,  
telling her things she doesn’t want to know.  
but she deals with it,  
because that’s all the knows how to do,  
the endless cycle,  
crashing over her again and again.


	10. darling and damned

they met on the edge of a bridge.  
in the midst of the night.  
Darling and Damned.  
she and her.  
Darling was escaping her life,  
Damned was looking for a new one.  
they looked into each other eyes,  
neither one was crying,  
but there was misery in Darlings eyes,  
a sadness untouched by anything she saw or did.  
Damned reached out  
tucked a strand of hair behind Darlings ear,  
she didn’t tell her it was okay,  
or that she had so much to live for,  
Damned didn’t know if it was true,  
but she hoped it was,  
because she thought Darling was beautiful,   
sharp edges and curly hair,  
ringed fingers and elegant clothes.  
Darling had never seen someone like Damned,  
eyes creased with laughter but hands scarred by fights.   
tattoos like spilled ink twirled up her arms,  
and worn leather tracing her path through life.  
they weren’t there to live  
or breathe,  
but to put a stop to the nothing that consumed their every day.  
but in each other’s smiles they found a hope,  
that it wouldn’t be so bad if they stayed together.   
maybe,  
just maybe they could get through the decay of life.  
Darling let out a laugh  
or a sob,  
and Damned held her close.  
they didn’t know each other,  
or what brought them to the edge of the bridge,  
but it was enough for now,  
and when morning came,  
the sunlight turning Damned’s hair pink,  
they walked off in their different directions.  
perhaps they saw each other again,  
or possibly they didn’t,  
but they never forgot.  
Darling and Damned.  
She and Her.


	11. drop

she stood by the rail,  
the chilled spray of the ocean in her hair.  
wishing for her heart to be made of sea glass,  
so it could break and no one would see through the cracks.  
a frosted wall.  
a rounded cage.  
she wore a faded silver locket around her neck,  
without a picture,  
a weighted chain.  
she leaned forward,  
elbows on the rusted banister,   
the texture digging into her skin,  
and she broke the locket.  
the snap resonating in her mind  
like a prayer.  
she pocketed the charm,  
warm from her thought-fevered skin,  
the small oval crested with jewels.  
she tucked it into her back pocket,  
at home with a ticket stub  
from the ferry she took alone.  
she wore a long emerald coat over a pale blue dress,  
crystal flowers in her raven hair,  
like snowflakes,  
or ashes.  
she tossed the light chain into to sea,  
and watched as it glinted   
down,  
down,  
until she couldn’t see it,  
the depth of the ocean taking over.  
she let the waves rock her towards tranquility,  
her mind never still but her soul at rest.   
she walked away,  
her black stiletto heels like daggers,  
a beat like the waves against the boat.  
her face set in stone,  
her heart made of sea glass,  
and her hand reaching for a pendant around her throat,  
that wasn’t there.


	12. stupid game (love)

blisters on my hands,  
from holding onto yours for so long,  
blood scattered on the floor,  
a trail following us.  
the rings around your fingers,  
conductors for the flame inside you,  
the flame that burns the ground you walk,  
and destroys the beautiful things,  
things that you never loved.  
“i’m doing this for us,” you say,  
as you cut out the hearts of my closest friends,  
and my family.  
the pain of holding on,  
not worth the pain of letting go.  
of letting you go,  
because i can still say i love you and mean it,  
even though you hurt me,  
controlling every aspect of my life,  
And stealing all my attention,  
making me forget who i was   
before i met you.  
before i loved you.


	13. fresh baked bread

the smell of fresh baked bread  
fills the crowded street.  
she is looking for them,  
standing on her toes,  
jumping up and down,  
and laughing,  
the sound drawing irked looks  
from the other passerbys  
who didn’t have a reason to laugh,  
their lives grey and simple,  
rushing off to work  
on a tuesday morning.  
her bright red scarf loose around her neck.  
they were looking for her,  
a lazy smile fitted to their face,  
waving their hands in the air,  
and calling her name,  
their bright clothes a stain  
against the dim world.  
both eyes met,  
the laugh lines around them creasing  
as they see the other,  
grinning and waving,  
oblivious to the busy world around them.  
they run toward each other,  
pulled in,  
a tide between them,  
pushing and pulling.  
they crash into each other,  
their glasses falling to the ground,  
her scarf floating in the breeze.  
she picked up their glasses,  
and placed them gingerly on their face,  
they cupped her jaw,  
she whispered their name.  
the pair of them not paying a flying thought  
to the rest of the world  
on a cloudy tuesday morning.


	14. stained glass

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i can’t not hear stainéd like banishèd in romeo and juliet help

Long walk in the woods,  
The twilight seeping through the emerald leaves,  
Shining on the bright eyes,  
And gently clasped hands.

Fighting in the grass,  
Barefoot and hurt,  
Blood-rushed faces pointing finger,  
Yelling words that aren’t meant to be said. 

Dancing in the rain,  
Water drenched clothes and laugh lines.  
Prominent in the light of the moon,  
Swaying back and forth and holding on.

Sitting in the silence,  
The clatter of the world around them,  
Not disturbing the devastated looks and downcast eyes,  
That come along with a talk no one wants to have.

Singing in the kitchen,  
Off key voices and clumsy dancing,  
Sliding around in sock-covered feet,  
And landing on the floor curled together.

Sobbing in the corner,  
Holding each other tight.  
Tear stained shirts and offbeat hearts,  
With shaky breaths and clutching hands.

Reading in the candlelight,  
The soft murmur of a caring voice,  
Stroking the hair of the head in their lap,  
And sounding out the voices.

Breathing in the darkness,  
Laying down, two people as one.  
Content souls and light-as-a-feather hearts,  
Hands stroking hair.

It’s the story of our love,  
Whoever you happen to be.  
The ups and the down,  
The wrongs and the right,  
And the problems we can never fix.

It’s the uncertainty of tomorrow and what it holds,  
But the truth that you will be there,  
Ready to keep me up,  
And help me grow. 

It’s about love,  
And the unavoidable pain it bestows on all who know it’s gentle touch.  
It’s about dark days,  
And the utter joy that comes through in them.


	15. fools

how tragic 

to love someone

with the knowledge 

they will not love you back.

how basic 

to continue to nature then

while they wound you,

i thought you were better,

but no.

you’re just like the rest of love-scarred fools.


	16. earl grey

the universe is a thinly balanced tea cup,  
sitting on the edge of an unmade bed,  
slipping closer and closer the edge.  
falling over the side in the delicate clatter   
of ancient china shattering  
into pieces that will someday be stars.


	17. nature’s name

close your eyes and think about the world.   
do you see good or bad?   
young or old?  
living or lived?   
human or nature?   
no matter what you see,   
i can assure you that humans are not the ones in control. nature doesn’t care about race or gender,   
sexuality or status,   
it is the impartial judge that can take and give the world. it knows no laws,   
and sees only people,   
hurting and helping.  
it is the giver and the provider,   
and in the end it will be the vengeful reaper.   
we came from its soil,   
and to its soil we will return,   
as ashes or otherwise.


	18. nightmares only come at night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i’m genuinely scared right now, i have no power and it’s snowy and the poem is me trying to do something besides worry

the powers out,  
a candlelight service.  
oh, villainous intent!   
an impromptu trip to our greatest insecurities.  
i never outgrew my childish fear of the dark,  
you still need to get over you obsession of flames.  
an earbud in each ear  
listening to Moon Song and Coney Island,  
why, sweet sadness, let us see you.   
blue cableknit hat contrasts your golden hair,  
glowing brighter with the lack of sun.   
you’re tired of my pirate smile,  
i can’t stand your chipped nail polish.  
there’s no love left for us here,  
it’s gone with the daylight,  
when we could play games and pile up under blankets.   
we’re stuck in the same place,  
have been long before this started.  
before our bedroom was lit by candles,  
a romantic ending to a heartless relationship.  
my raw heart fades away with the last candle.


	19. worlds and oceans

empty promises  
useless threats  
an open world between us  
it can’t even be called an ocean anymore.

oceans have multitudes of depth,  
worlds have wars.  
oceans have memories crashing on sandbanks,  
worlds don’t know their history. 

oceans spill heart everyday   
worlds lost their heart to greed  
oceans stay and listen,   
worlds pretend to care.


	20. falling lovers

forswear my love softly,  
the swelling symphonies of hate grew,  
i could hear them behind our arguments,  
vexed violins rising on the other side  
of a plummeting love melody  
that used to be our regular.

you’ve moved on faster than i thought.  
not that i’m paying any attention,  
but she seems nice,   
if not a little foolishly naive,  
about how much being hurt by a good woman,  
can scar.


	21. not bad enough

I don’t have any scars that I made on myself,  
Not on the outside.  
That doesn’t mean I didn’t try.  
I did, once.  
It was a bad day, a messed up mindset,  
and I needed to do something, anything.  
So I drew the razor across my skin,  
blood droplets a beaded bracelet.  
I prayed that night for hours,  
endlessly justifying myself to no one there.  
I didn’t think I deserved it.   
I don’t have a bad life,   
I’m not depressed, just anxious.  
I don’t deserve to do this,  
I don’t deserve to do this to myself,  
which is meant in the most cynical way possible.


End file.
